


James's Rules

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Nightwatch (1997)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-23
Updated: 1999-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tied up, left alone for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	James's Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Content includes consensual restraint.

"Uh, James?"

No reply. Martin tugged his wrists against their silken bonds. No give. A satisfying pull on his arm muscles as he stretched against the bed. Anticipation flooded him again, and he felt a deep throb in his cock as it pressed against the tight denim of his jeans.

He risked a glance over at James. Technically, it was breaking the rules -- "You do only what I say," James had said -- but the suspense was getting to be too much for Martin. He hadn't heard any movement, any unzipping. What was James doing?

He was doing nothing. Sitting in a chair in the corner, fully clothed, smoking, watching Martin. He didn't smile or acknowledge Martin in any way, just continued staring. It made Martin nervous, so he went back to staring up at the ceiling.

Minutes passed. The anticipation had faded into something else, something closer to fear. This wasn't exactly a game, was it? James _was_ in control, completely. That's what Martin had agreed to, had said he wanted, had thought he wanted. But now his fingers were getting numb and he had no idea what James had in mind, and what was taking so long.

Movement. Finally. With his peripheral vision, Martin saw James stand up and approach the bed. James leaned over him, expression unreadable, touched Martin's cheek lightly, then produced a blindfold. Martin's eyes widened. He started to protest, then remembered: he couldn't. That would _definitely_ be breaking the rules. He closed his eyes obediently as James blindfolded him.

Well, at least it was starting. Martin's cock started to swell again as he imagined James stripping him and touching him. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see James's face and watch his pleasure. But he would know, from his lover's body, from the quiet sounds his lover made.

Still he waited. Then an awful, terrible sound. The chain on the door was unhooked, the bolt turned back, and the door opened. Martin felt a blast of cool night air before it shut.

"James?"

Silence. He waited. James was probably just testing him, enjoying the sight of Martin's anxiety. Okay, then. Martin made a show of writhing nervously and said again, "James? Are you there?"

This time he was sure. There was definitely a different silence in an empty room than in a room occupied by another person. James had left him. Like this.

That crazy bastard.

Was this James's idea of a joke? It would be like him to reduce Martin to a quivering mass of need using the power of suggestion alone: a few soft whispers, the silk ties, a conveniently discreet and dumpy motel room. Get Martin worked up, then leave him alone and tease him about it the next day.

_He is so going to get it when I get out of here,_ Martin vowed. Then he killed a good half hour thinking of means of revenge, although he knew he'd probably never be able to get anything past James. James could read him like a book. Martin wished it were a talent he shared.

Eventually he found that he could ease the numbing ache in his hands if he gripped the bedposts. By now his arousal was just a memory, and the blindfold was making his scalp itch. He rubbed his head against the pillow, then tried to work the blindfold off that way, but leave it to James to tie it too securely. _He's in big trouble this time,_ he thought, wishing it weren't such an empty threat.

Martin was almost asleep when he felt another hint of cool air. He woke up completely disoriented, blind, aching in strange places, like his shoulders and underarms. Then he remembered it all: the ties, the blindfold, James leaving. He listened for a moment.

"James?"

No reply, but he heard some rustling. He was not alone. But unfortunately for James (Martin thought) the game had gone on too long. Martin was tired now, and achy, and he just wanted to go home and curl up in their nice, warm bed and forget about James's little humiliate-Martin joke.

"Sorry to break this to you, but I've had enough. Game over, we all lose, let's go home."

More rustling, and the creak of a floorboard. Martin sighed impatiently. Enough was enough. "Come on. I said it's over. Ha ha, you've had your little joke, now untie me and let's go."

From somewhere deep in his brain came floating up a memory of something he'd read about similar situations. A safeword that meant stop, really stop. Oh shit. James had never mentioned that, and Martin had never even thought about it. It was just a game, a tease, and at the time, Martin thought they would get to the motel and go for it. James had certainly never shown such restraint before. Hell, it was usually all Martin could do to get inside the apartment door before James was all over him, groping and kissing and leading him to the bed.

So. If he said stop, would James really stop, or did James think it was just part of the game? Martin sighed again. He was so tired of this. "Stop. I mean it. Safeword. Uncle. Whatever word you want to hear."

Absolute silence. Except... Was that breathing? James didn't breathe so hard, not _before_ sex, anyway. And why wouldn't he just say something? Just tell Martin to shut up, or negotiate to continue playing, whatever. James was a smooth talker. If he really wanted Martin to go on with this, he could talk him into it.

"James? Just answer me. Say anything."

And then a horrible thought formed. What if this wasn't James? It was possible. James had left, and Martin had never heard him locking the door. Oh god. What if James had left him, getting a kick out of his sick little joke, and some crazy person who breathed loudly had come in, and found Martin. Like this. All tied up and nowhere to go. No way of defending himself... fighting back... He couldn't even see what was coming.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and a tremor ran down his spine. He tried to reason with himself. He could fight back. His legs were untied, so he could kick and use his knees. His mouth wasn't gagged, so he could scream and bite. Sure. When the attack came, he had defenses.

So why was he so fucking scared? Why was sweat streaming down the back of his neck, trickling under his shirt and making his back itch? Why were his teeth starting to clatter?

He had just decided that this would be the time to start screaming at the top of his lungs when he felt his shirt being unbuttoned. James. You _bastard_. Although... It could still be someone else. Psychos could unbutton a shirt as easily as lovers could. Martin swallowed hard and tensed, praying for some sign that it was James, and not some lunatic. He'd had enough murderous lunatics in his life, thankyouverymuch.

Please be James. Please be James. Please be James.

His shirt was unbuttoned and folded back, exposing his chest. Some movement caused a slight brush of air over his chest. He had a horrifying image of a knife poised over his heart, wondered if he'd have time to scream, how much it would hurt. Why had he thought this was such a good idea earlier?

A hand rested over his chest, warm and strong, fingers splayed. Four fingers, no thumb. _James_. The name rang in his ears and filled his heart. Relief swept through him and he actually wept. The tears escaped, only to be trapped by the blindfold. He was glad James couldn't see them.

James caressed his chest, and Martin relaxed. He felt a momentary return of his anger -- why couldn't James just say something? why didn't he stop when Martin asked him to? -- but that was quickly displaced by the joy he felt just being touched again, being acknowledged. James rubbed and pinched Martin's nipples, and arousal returned, even more overwhelming this time. Martin arched and strained against his jeans.

By now Martin knew to expect no response, no answers, and no swiftness. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and tried to relax further and just flow with James's touches. It wasn't easy. James never touched him so gently. It was almost maddening, teasing him even more. When James's hand left his chest, Martin involuntarily groaned from the loss of contact.

However, he soon discovered why. James removed his shoes and socks. For a split second, Martin was filled with another kind of horror; James knew he had incredibly ticklish feet. But, at least for the moment, James was being merciful with his teasing. He simply stroked the arches of Martin's feet and left them alone.

There was a long pause, and Martin listened carefully, but his own heartbeats were drumming too loudly in his ears for him to make out any sounds. He was fully aroused now, aching with anticipation and the need for James's touches, but he didn't speak or move too obviously. Let James decide what came next.

It was all Martin could do to keep from crying out, "Hallelujah," when James undid the fly of his jeans and tugged them off. Martin lifted his legs and hips helpfully, breathing out a sigh of relief. Next his boxer shorts were slowly and carefully stripped off. Leave it to James to find a way to remove underwear without ever touching his cock.

Naked, except for his open shirt, and spread out on the bed, Martin felt curiously free, despite his obvious confinement. He knew what James was seeing: Martin, completely at his mercy, thoroughly aroused and more than ready for the next step. He tried to imagine the look on James's face: thoughtful? Lusty grin? Quiet amusement?

_He must be taking a long look,_ Martin thought after minutes passed without any touches. Then he realized James could leave him again. Like this. Tied up _and_ naked. Leave him for hours. Never come back. Leave him to be found by a cleaning lady the next day. _No, he wouldn't,_ but as soon as he told himself that, his brain answered, _oh yes, he would._ Martin tried to steady his breathing, tried to keep the trembling from his arms and legs. He would not speak, would not beg. Most of all, he would not cry. He would _not_ cry with frustration. Those tears could just crawl back into his eyes.

James did not leave. James joined him on the bed, then straddled him, and James was naked. Ohhhhh sweet mercy, James was naked and so hot that where their skin touched Martin felt as if he were being burned. James ran his hands down Martin's chest and torso, smoothed them back up in a massaging rub. When James leaned forward, Martin felt James's cock brush against his stomach. Hard, and hot, and just a bit moist. Martin moaned and stretched and tugged his arms against the ties.

James kissed him, unbelievably gentle. Martin had never been kissed so tenderly. It excited him even more and he lost himself to that kiss, exploring every curve of James's lips with his own, and rubbing against the faint stubble around James's mouth. When James eased Martin's lips apart with his tongue, Martin thought he might come just from kissing. James's tongue slid into his mouth, licking and swirling as it pressed deep, and Martin sucked on it, the familiar taste of cigarettes and alcohol like nectar to him now.

While they kissed, James stroked his outstretched arms, his sides, and his hips. James's cock slid against his belly, and Martin shivered when he felt the slick trail it left. His own cock was beating furiously, aching for release, but it was a sweet, delicious ache. James's lips left his, too soon. Martin swallowed a groan of frustration and was rewarded by James kissing his throat. Then his chest. Then lower. And lower. A kiss and a bite around his navel. Another kiss, lower. And if James kissed next where Martin thought he might, then that was the end. No way Martin could withstand that. He was about to explode.

James didn't kiss where Martin thought he might. Instead, he slid back, kissed Martin's thighs, and eased Martin's legs apart. Martin didn't even have a moment to catch his breath before he felt James's lips on his balls, then the sensitive flesh just beyond them. Martin moaned so loud he was sure they could hear it on the street. James kissed again, and licked his balls, which ached so much it was a toss-up between pleasure and pain.

James kissed again, and licked, going further. Martin's breathing became ragged, and he spread his legs wider, lifting his hips. James curved his hands under Martin's ass and gave his firm flesh a familiar, affectionate squeeze. But what was driving Martin insane was James's tongue, insinuating itself into his body with wet, rolling strokes. Martin's hands clenched into fists.

Just when Martin thought he could take no more, he must surely pass out from sensual overload, James drew back, allowed him one deep breath, then captured Martin's cock with his mouth. Martin instantly thrust up and pushed his swollen, fiercely throbbing length deep into the hot, wet haven of James's hungry mouth. Martin barely registered how hard James was sucking before his senses exploded. He arched into the ecstatic storm, pumping his thick come down James's throat.

Every nerve ending was tingling. Martin sagged against the bed and took a deep breath. His hands were really numb now, and he twisted them around to grab onto the bedposts. And he was glad he did a few seconds later when James released his cock, grabbed his hips, lifted him and rammed into him. Martin gasped and held on to the bed, bracing himself for the hard thrusting. But James, buried deep inside him, stayed still. Martin felt him shift until he was kneeling, and Martin lifted his legs higher and hooked them around James.

James caressed Martin's thighs and gave them a very gentle scratching. James touched Martin's cock, soft and sticky against his groin. Martin sighed and relaxed just a little, and felt his lover's flesh filling him with heat and hardness and rhythmic pulse. This was new, too, this stillness. It was as if James knew how Martin savored the feel of him. Well, Martin would make sure he knew now. He rocked very subtly, stroking James with his body.

At last, a sound. James half-sighed, half-groaned, and started moving. Very steadily, very tenderly, drawing back to thrust deep in an easy, gradually increasing rhythm. Martin moved with him and matched his rhythm, nearly laughing from the pleasure and giddiness he felt. After his own incredible climax, now this: strong, gentle lovemaking that filled him completely.

His eyes were shut so tightly that at first he didn't realize when James removed the blindfold. He blinked a few times before James's face came into focus. An intense look, but somehow... happy. Martin wasn't sure he'd ever really seen James happy before, but this look must be fairly close. Martin smiled at him, rocking back and forth as James's thrusts grew a little harder. Then the look he knew so well -- concentration slipping, a hard swallow, then James's head arched back and his lips parted in a soundless whisper. Always so beautiful -- handsome just wasn't the word for that moment. Martin held onto him with his legs and body, and felt James's shuddering bliss as James pulsed inside him.

Martin felt completely light-headed. He kept giggling, and knew he shouldn't because it wasn't very romantic, but it was like he was high and couldn't help it. James didn't seem to mind, though. James gave him a bemused smile and untied his wrists, gently lowering his arms and rubbing life back into them. The pins and needles he felt when the blood returned to his palms put an end to the giggles, but he was still unbelievably high. James settled on his back and ruffled Martin's hair. Martin shrugged out of his sweat-soaked shirt and settled on his side. It felt so good to change positions that he thought he would moan again.

He kissed James's jaw, kissed the pulse in his neck, then lay his head on James's chest. James leisurely stroked Martin's back.

Martin yawned. He felt incredibly sleepy. "You," he said, poking James's stomach with one finger, "are a wild man. I had no idea..." He trailed off and yawned again, smiling at the rumbling vibration beneath his cheek as James chuckled.

He couldn't go to sleep without knowing something, though. He looked up and rubbed James's chin with his fingertip. "But hey, why didn't you say anything? All those times I was asking for you, you never said a word. And when you came back, I was starting to freak out because you wouldn't talk."

James gave him a very satisfied smile, which made Martin immediately suspicious. "Oh, that's simple," James said, and kissed Martin's lips. "The rule was, you had to do anything I said." Martin nodded and James smiled again. "So I didn't say anything."

Martin squinted, but he couldn't be upset at James's joke, if that's what it was. The sex -- no, _lovemaking_ \-- had been way too incredible.

James gently turned him around onto his other side, and settled behind him, wrapping his arms around Martin's waist in the spooning position he liked to sleep in. Martin closed his eyes and relaxed against his lover. James kissed his ear and murmured, "I mean, where would be the fun in that?"

(The End)


End file.
